


Four Tales Fresh Off the Bone

by Nibelung



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Arwen has only a minor role, Blood and Violence, F/M, Female Sauron, Gen, I am firmly in the "Arwen was a mistake" camp, I do like Faramir though, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, also some Farmer Giles of Ham influence, four alternate universes actually, not that you might know it from this fic :~, seriously she's basically just a pretty face borrowed from a much better character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-16 15:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16956801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nibelung/pseuds/Nibelung
Summary: Variant accounts of the War of the Ring, transcribed from pages written in ithildin in the Golden Book of Pengolodh.Warning: The King of Gondor’s table has strong meat set on its board.





	1. minas ithil

>  ‘I will tread the path with you, Gandalf!’ said Gimli. ‘I will go and look on the halls of Durin, whatever may wait there—if you can find the doors that are shut.’
> 
> ‘Good, Gimli!’ said Gandalf. ‘You encourage me. We will seek the hidden doors together. And we will come through. In the ruins of the Dwarves, a dwarf’s head will be less easy to bewilder than Elves or Men or Hobbits. Yet it will not be the first time that I have been to Moria. I sought there long for Thráin son of Thrór after he was lost. I passed through, and I came out again alive!’
> 
> ‘I too once passed the Dimrill Gate,’ said Aragorn quietly; ‘but though I also came out again, the memory is very evil. I do not wish to enter Moria a second time.’
> 
> \-- LOTR II.iv, “A Journey In the Dark”

 

He dreams of his first visit to Moria, sometimes.

The monster into which Arwen had been transformed.

The fiend that wore Arwen’s shape.

And the choice he made, to strike down what looked like a demon from the depths of Barad-dûr.

Too late he learned that the darkest face of Evil is that of one’s own desire.

And after She had left, he mourned over his first love’s corpse.

 

He dreams also, though less often, of the visit to Minas Morgul.

Of the image that came in his dream of a severed Elf ear-tip.

Of Legolas’ surprise at riding on a dragon, and even more so that one should owe the King of Gondor a favour.

Of the maiden and the monster within the tower, parallel to the nightmare of Moria so many years ago – and his command to Legolas that they should slay them both, knowing Sauron would want whatever choice he made to be a wrong one.

The search for Eowyn that resulted in the discovery of a woman like to her, hidden behind a false wall.

The lies that fell from her lips.

The deceit in which he captured Her.

 

He remembers what befell on that occasion.

She claimed the Orcs had refrained from harming her, on Sauron’s orders from before the fall of the Dark Tower, so she might be revealed as a hostage to ensure Aragorn’s submission if the battle at the Black Gate favoured the new Ringlord.

She was therefore, she said in passing, still a maiden.

And therein was the lie.

Eowyn had told him, one evening at Dunharrow, after too much to drink. How Wormtongue had taken her virginity with a shaft of wood, the better to deny with lawyer’s truth having done it himself. He remembered the hot tears spilling down her face, her cheeks flushed with shame and alcohol; remembered putting his arm around her shoulders to provide what comfort he could.

This was not Eowyn.

This was She.

Sauron the Deceiver.

The fiend who wore male guise like a suit of armour, the better to frighten superstitious Orcs and Men into obedience.

And, with her lie exposed, she wanted his head.

 

He remembers the battle.

It was desperate work: two against one, like Elendil and Gil-galad’s combat with Sauron at the end of the War of the Last Alliance. The end would have been alike as well, had Legolas not discovered the true hiding place of Eowyn: a pit beneath a false floor in the hidden alcove where Sauron had waited in Eowyn’s shape.

Truly then she had not died when the thing that had worn her shape sickened and died in the Houses of Healing. That had been a mere phantom, an illusion woven by the Nazgûl to take her place on the battlefield even as they spirited her away unconscious in their retreat.

It was Eowyn who, though blinded from torture, struck Sauron the death-blow with her remaining hand; her right arm had been amputated halfway below the elbow, a consequence of having killed the Wizard King of Angmar with his own ice-bladed sword.

Her left arm, too, she would lose as a result of this fight.

In her last throes, Sauron tried to burn Eowyn to death. But her strength failed, and she succumbed to bodily death, and her spirit departed before her evil will was done.

Yet Eowyn screamed and writhed in the pain of the burning spell, so that Aragorn had to give her the healing draught Gandalf and Ioreth had distilled from the first fruit of the newfound White Tree.

He had not known there would be a side effect.

 

Many fair things, many good men, were lost in the War of the Ring.

Faramir perished in the battle at Osgiliath, and Gimli, like Glorfindel of old, fell slaying a Balrog on the plain before the Morannon. Legolas tore in grief at his dark hair when after the battle he found the Dwarf’s body, lying still beside that of his last foe.

Théoden of Rohan perished at Osgiliath also; many of the Rangers of the North fell, at Osgiliath and before the Black Gate; and the Shire of the Hobbits was grievously injured by the malice of Saruman.

It is a great fortune, Aragorn thinks, that Eowyn was not among those who were lost.

 

Her skin is pale, now, white as milk after the draught of the Tree-fruit. Her sightless eyes are also milky-white, and an up-turned crescent moon in _mithril_ , meant as symbol of Sauron’s power even after the destruction of the Ring, is set upon her forehead by arts unknown to smiths of Men and Elves.

Her nose was broken, and her teeth all pulled out, during her torture, and her back was flogged with a barbed whip; she wears silver teeth, now, and a patchwork of faded scars on the pale flesh of her back stands out in relief like roughly hewn marble.

The hair of her head was burnt off by Sauron’s wrathful fire; upon her baldness she wears a wig wrought of beads of oversea blue, gift of the Elves who trade with the Isle of Eressëa.

It covers also the severed tip of one ear. The other retains its slight point: legacy, she told him at Dunharrow, of a night her mother gave shelter, while Eomund was away at war, to a dark-haired huntsman clad in strange grey garb, whom Aragorn knows as one of the sons of Elrond.

In place of her missing hands she wears gloves of red leather, filled with oats, secured to her arms by vambraces of steel, like those worn by the Swan-knights of Prince Imrahil. On the backs of the gloves her sigil is broidered; a golden Sun, its rays alternately straight and curving, its face adorned with a tall crescent Moon in silver, whose hollow has no darkness but rather reveals the face of the Sun behind it.

Shoes she does not wear, for without eyes to see or hands to feel, her feet are her firmest connection to the world of Middle-earth. Their uppers are as silver as the rest of her, but her soles are black as soot.

The rapes she suffered at the hands of the Orcs, in front and behind, have left her unable to hold her water or her stool; and, though its pain is departed, the fire of Sauron’s dying hand still lingers in her flesh, so that even a gossamer veil makes her sweat as if she were in the mouth of Orodruin.

Hence her attire is completed by a golden loincloth, whose single front panel does not obstruct the use of the chamber pot hidden beneath her throne.

And beneath that panel of cloth-of-gold is proof that not all her hair was burnt off by Sauron’s ire.

Her voice is cracked and deepened from the screams she gave in Minas Morgul, whether from the knives of the Orcs or their stiff cocks, or both at once.

But at night in the chambers of the King’s House, in bed with Aragorn and Legolas, Eowyn gives voice to a different kind of scream.


	2. the tower of the moon

>  Words of Aragorn and Denethor. Denethor will not yield Stewardship, yet: not until war is won or lost and all is made clear. He is cold and suspicious and? mock-courteous. Aragorn grave and silent. But Denethor says that belike the Stewardship will run out anyway, since he seems like to lose both his sons. Faramir is sick of his wounds. If he dies then Gondor can take what new lord it likes. Aragorn says he will not be ‘taken’, he will take, but asks to see Faramir. Faramir is brought out and Aragorn tends him all that night, and love springs between them.
> 
> \-- _The War of the Ring_ III.viii, “The Story Foreseen from Forannest”, ed. Christopher Tolkien

 

He dreams of his first visit to Moria, sometimes.

The monster into which Arwen had been transformed.

The fiend that wore Arwen’s shape.

And the choice he made, to strike down what looked like a demon from the depths of Barad-dûr.

Too late he learned that the darkest face of Evil is that of one’s own desire.

And after She had left, he mourned over his first love’s corpse.

 

He dreams also, though less often, of the visit to Minas Morgul.

Of the image that came in his dream of a severed Elf ear-tip.

Of Faramir’s surprise at riding on a dragon, and even more so that one should owe the King of Gondor a favour.

Of the maiden and the monster within the tower, parallel to the nightmare of Moria so many years ago – and his command to Faramir that they should slay them both, knowing Sauron would want whatever choice he made to be a wrong one.

The search for Eowyn that resulted in the discovery of a woman like to her, hidden behind a false wall.

The lies that fell from her lips.

The deceit in which he captured Her.

 

He remembers what befell on that occasion.

She claimed the Orcs had refrained from harming her, on Sauron’s orders from before the fall of the Dark Tower, so she might be revealed as a hostage to ensure Aragorn’s submission if the battle at the Black Gate favoured the new Ringlord.

She was therefore, she said in passing, still a maiden.

And therein was the lie.

Eowyn had told him, one evening at Dunharrow, after too much to drink. How Wormtongue had taken her virginity with a shaft of wood, the better to deny with lawyer’s truth having done it himself. He remembered the hot tears spilling down her face, her cheeks flushed with shame and alcohol; remembered putting his arm around her shoulders to provide what comfort he could.

This was not Eowyn.

This was She.

Sauron the Deceiver.

The fiend who wore male guise like a suit of armour, the better to frighten superstitious Orcs and Men into obedience.

And, with her lie exposed, she wanted his head.

 

He remembers the battle.

It was desperate work: two against one, like Elendil and Gil-galad’s combat with Sauron at the end of the War of the Last Alliance. The end would have been alike as well, had Faramir not discovered the true hiding place of Eowyn: a pit beneath a false floor in the hidden alcove where Sauron had waited in Eowyn’s shape.

Truly then she had not died when the thing that had worn her shape sickened and died in the Houses of Healing. That had been a mere phantom, an illusion woven by the Nazgûl to take her place on the battlefield even as they spirited her away unconscious in their retreat.

It was Eowyn who, though blinded from torture, struck Sauron the death-blow with her remaining hand; her right arm had been amputated halfway below the elbow, a consequence of having killed the Wizard King of Angmar with his own ice-bladed sword.

Her left arm, too, she would lose as a result of this fight.

In her last throes, Sauron tried to burn Eowyn to death. But her strength failed, and she succumbed to bodily death, and her spirit departed before her evil will was done.

Yet Eowyn screamed and writhed in the pain of the burning spell, so that Aragorn had to give her the healing draught Gandalf and Ioreth had distilled from the first fruit of the newfound White Tree.

He had not known there would be a side effect.

 

Many fair things, many good men, were lost in the War of the Ring.

Faramir lost his left hand in the battle at Osgiliath. Lórien was razed by Orcs, though Celeborn and Galadriel escaped, because they sent their troops to deliver the armies of Gondor and Rohan from their peril, trapped on the west bank of the Anduin between a host of Orcs and the black ships of Umbar.

Théoden of Rohan perished at Osgiliath also; many of the Rangers of the North fell, at Osgiliath and before the Black Gate; and the Shire of the Hobbits was grievously injured by the malice of Saruman.

It is a great fortune, Aragorn thinks, that Eowyn was not among those who were lost.

 

Her skin is pale, now, white as milk after the draught of the Tree-fruit. Her sightless eyes are also milky-white, and an up-turned crescent moon in _mithril_ , meant as symbol of Sauron’s power even after the destruction of the Ring, is set upon her forehead by arts unknown to smiths of Men and Elves.

Her nose was broken, and her teeth all pulled out, during her torture, and the nipple of her left breast was cut off; she wears silver teeth, now, and an aureole of gold.

The hair of her head was burnt off by Sauron’s wrathful fire; upon her baldness she wears a wig wrought of beads of oversea blue, gift of the Elves who trade with the Isle of Eressëa.

It covers also the severed tip of one ear. The other retains its slight point: legacy, she told him at Dunharrow, of a night her mother gave shelter, while Eomund was away at war, to a dark-haired huntsman clad in strange grey garb, whom Aragorn knows as one of the sons of Elrond.

In place of her missing hands she wears gloves of red leather, filled with oats, secured to her arms by vambraces of steel, like those worn by the Swan-knights of Prince Imrahil.

Shoes she does not wear, for without eyes to see or hands to feel, her feet are her firmest connection to the world of Middle-earth. Their uppers are as silver as the rest of her, but her soles are black as soot.

The rapes she suffered at the hands of the Orcs, in front and behind, have left her unable to hold her water or her stool; and, though its pain is departed, the fire of Sauron’s dying hand still lingers in her flesh, so that even a gossamer veil makes her sweat as if she were in the mouth of Orodruin.

Hence her attire is completed by a golden loincloth, whose single front panel does not obstruct the use of the chamber pot hidden beneath her throne.

And beneath that panel of cloth-of-gold is proof that not all her hair was burnt off by Sauron’s ire.

Her voice is cracked and deepened from the screams she gave in Minas Morgul, whether from the knives of the Orcs or their stiff cocks, or both at once.

But at night in the chambers of the King’s House, in bed with Aragorn and Faramir, Eowyn gives voice to a different kind of scream.


	3. osgiliath

> Eowyn says that women must ride now, as they did in a like evil time in the days of Brego son of _____ Eorl's son, when the wild men of the East came from the Inland Sea into the Eastemnet.
> 
> \- Outline in _The War of the Ring_ III.ii, “Book Five Begun and Abandoned”, ed. Christopher Tolkien

 

“Begone, foul dwimor-lake! Leave the dead in peace!”

A cold voice answered: “Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.”

A sword rang as it was drawn. “Do then as thou wilt; but I will hinder it, if I may.”

“Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man can hinder me!”

Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest, a peal of laughter clear as a stream running in a mountain rill. “But no living man am I! I am Eowyn, Eomund’s daughter. Thou standest between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if thou be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite thee, if thou touch him.”

As she spoke she cast from her the cloak she had worn about her shoulders, and revealed herself naked to the waist, like the unarmoured warrior-maidens in the days of Aldor grandson of Eorl, who shamed their fallen enemies with the knowledge that it was a woman who had defeated them.

The Wizard King hesitated, and checked the advance of his war-mount; his hitherto undaunted will had been shaken, however briefly, by the appearance of this unlooked-for foe. For the first time since the arrival of the Nazgûl, Merry dared to open his eyes. He saw the Morgul-lord mounted high on his awful steed, black and terrifying like a nightmare of the Elder Days come to life. But for all the terror of his visage the woman before him was undaunted. A sunbeam pierced the black-veiled sky above the plain; the sword in Eowyn’s hand glittered; her long fair hair gleamed where it emerged beneath her helmet.

Suddenly the Black Rider’s hideous mount reared its huge snakelike head. Foul breath streamed from its mouth and nostrils as, unpossessed of its master’s apprehension, it readied to seize this new prey between its jaws. A great shadow fell on Eowyn, but she shrank not back; with steady hand she swung her sword, and with one stroke clove the beast’s head from its neck.

Back she sprang as the severed head tumbled at her feet. The great carcase wavered for a moment, then crashed to earth, pinning Merry beneath its haunch as it fell. But out of the wreck rose the Black Rider, tall and threatening, towering over Eowyn. A sword hung in a metal sheath upon his hip; a great black mace shone darkly in his right hand. Beneath his iron crown two eyes pale and terrible gleamed from a face unseen.

Try as he might, Merry could not pull himself out from under the massive bulk of the dead creature. Yet this spared him from the notice of the Lord of the Nazgûl, whose dark will was focused wholly on the woman before him. He was paid as little attention as a common worm in the mud.

“So! Thou hast slain my steed,” said the Rider to Eowyn. “Let us see if thou art so war-crafty when ranged against the magic of a Wizard of old.

“Did Gandalf not tell thee that I was one of his Order, that he was once a Man even as I? Perhaps he let it be thought that he was one of the Maiar, a messenger sent from Valinor to succour those that raise their hand against the Dark Lord? Not so. By spells in books that sank with ancient Númenor we gained long life, both Gandalf and I, and the rest of our small company; yet the head of our Order died under torture, in the days of the Dark Lord’s dominion in Armenelos. For I was second of the Wizards, whose knowledge outmatched even Saruman, and it was my betrayal that brought about his ruin.

“Thou art a brave enough warrior, I deem, but little harm canst thou inflict without a weapon.”

He raised his left hand in a gesture as though sending forth a gust of wind, and the sword in Eowyn’s grasp shattered. She flung the useless hilt to the ground in terror and amaze. The rent in the clouds high above closed up once more, and the light about Eowyn failed, even as her eyes swept around her desperately for another way to continue the combat.

“Indeed, what hurt canst thou do at all? What move couldst thou make against me, thou who art ruled by fear?” As the Rider spoke his terrible pale eyes focused their gaze on her; their power was like that of the eyes of a dragon of old days, and Eowyn found herself unable to move. She could but stand helpless, watching, waiting for the mace in the Nazgûl Lord’s right hand to strike a crashing blow.

The first blow swept her helmet from her head. The second shattered her cheekbone; the third broke her jaw.

After half a dozen blows she was still standing motionless, unable to move for bone-deep fear of the Ringwraith’s baleful eyes. But the left side of her face was a ruin: her eye on that side had swollen shut and pulsed with pain, her nose had been broken more than once, and half her teeth lay on the bloodstained grass at her feet.

Still Merry worked to push himself free of the carcase pinning him to the earth, unnoticed by the Wizard King intent on the destruction of his foe.

On the seventh blow the wooden haft of the mace splintered and broke. The iron head fell to the ground to join the hilt of Eowyn’s ruined weapon. Casting the broken handle aside, the Wizard King drew the sword from the black sheath at his belt. It shone like the glimmer of ice on a mountain-peak in winter beneath a cold sun.

This was the same blade with which he had contended with Gandalf at the Great Gate of Minas Tirith, and broken the wizard’s staff, before being put to flight by the sudden arrival of Aragorn’s Rangers from over a treacherous mountain pass. The Nazgûl held the blade before Eowyn’s one working eye, anticipating what seemed a sure triumph.

“Seest thou this blade? Thou mayest regard it with loathing now, but soon thou shalt long to feel its icy point within thy breast. Had I more time and wherewithal I could contrive a far more painful death for thee; but as it is, thy agonies shall make it seem a mercy when this sword drinks thy life.”

He spoke an incantation in a tongue neither the woman nor the hobbit understood, and the hair on the crown of Eowyn’s head burst into flame.

With a great heave, Merry at last broke free of the weight of the dead creature pinning him down. Swiftly he dashed over to the Wizard King, and drawing the Barrow-sword thrust it with all his force into the back of the Nazgûl’s knee, at the join between two pieces of Morgul-plate.

Instantly Merry’s arm was seized with a frigid numbness, and as he dropped his sword its blade melted. But his aim had been true, and his blow had its desired effect; for it broke the spell that bound the Nazgûl Lord’s sinews to his will, and glad to know its fate would be the smith who forged it in the North-lands long ago.

The Wizard King fell to his knees, and his sword tumbled to the ground; the flames he had conjured atop Eowyn’s head went out as he collapsed. Freed from the spell that bound her, Eowyn took from the ground the fell sword with the glittering icy blade. With a great effort she drove it between the Wizard King’s crown and mantle, where two pale eyes stared out, defiant still, from the absence of a face.

So died the Wizard King, lord of Númenor, castellan of Minas Morgul and lieutenant of Sauron.

Then, weary with exhaustion and grievous hurt, Eowyn collapsed into unconsciousness.

 

And in the midst of the wrack stood Meriadoc like an owl blinking in the daylight; and he went stumbling to look on the body of Théoden, and found that the old king was no longer pinned beneath his horse. For Snowmane in the spasm of death had rolled again, and lay now beside the body of the king; yet he had been the bane of his master.

Then Merry knelt to kiss his hand, and Théoden opened his eyes, and he spoke in a voice weak but unbroken. “Farewell, Master Holbytla! I go to my fathers, and even in their mighty company I shall not now be ashamed. I felled the black serpent. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset!”

Hot tears fell from Merry’s eyes. “Forgive me, lord,” he said, “that in giving you my service I failed to save you in this dark hour.”

“Grieve not! There is nothing to forgive.” The old king smiled. “Live now in blessedness; and when you smoke your pipe-weed, think of me. For never now shall I sit with you in Meduseld, as I promised to do, and listen to your herb-lore.” He closed his eyes, and Merry bowed his head beside him; but after a pause Théoden roused himself and spoke again. “Where is Eomer? I would give him my banner. He must be king after me. Bid Eowyn farewell! She has fought valiantly, and is truly a worthy warrior of the Mark. Give her my love and good wishes. May your path be always firm beneath your feet, Master Meriadoc!”

And the old King’s eyes closed for the last time; but Merry, overcome with grief and weariness, fell to the ground and succumbed like Eowyn to sleep.

 

Night fell upon the battlefield, and the Orcs were still in the possession thereof.

The men of Gondor and Rohan had retreated to the ruins of Osgiliath by the river, leaving the dead and wounded upon the plain to suffer as they might. The Orcs sent scouts forth to find and slay the wounded of their enemy; such cruelty did the armies of Sauron deem expediency of war.

From time to time Eowyn woke upon the battlefield, but of necessity had to remain where she lay, so the attention of the scouts of death would not fall on her. Her shattered face and the burns on her scalp pained her like a mask of fire, and there was a cold beyond words that held her right hand moveless, which had gripped the Wizard King’s own sword to strike him his death-blow.

She whispered to Merry, who lay nearby where he too had fallen, to remain still and quiet as she did, lest the Orcs espy them and kill them; and by a grunt of understanding she knew he would heed her command.

The night wore on, and she had no choice but to relieve herself lying on the cold ground. Urine and stool soaked into her breeches, chilling them and adding to her discomfort.

Close before dawn a crow alighted on her face, and taking her for a corpse, began to peck at her nose. Still she could do nothing, as the Orc-scouts yet roamed the field looking for wounded foes to kill.

Peck! peck! peck! The pain was terrible, but she could do nothing but bear it. The fear of death drove all other thoughts from her mind save that of survival. She would not let the casual malice of carrion betray her to the enemy. Tears of pain leaked from her eyes, one open and one sealed shut. But she gritted her teeth, and dug the nails of her left hand into her palm, and waited.

Finally the crow, having obtained its pound of flesh, flew off sated once more. And Eowyn was left to breathe through the gaping hole where once had been her nose.

 

The morning came, and with it great surprise. For even as corsairs from the havens of Umbar sailed in their black ships up Anduin to complete the rout of the armies of Men, a spectral host came riding across the plain; the ghostly armies of Elendil, by whose tomb Aragorn had passed as he led his Rangers over the Scada Pass to relieve the siege of Minas Tirith.

The Army of the Dead made short work of the Orcs and Corsairs; and with that done they departed once more, though Aragorn was seen to have words with the leading spirit, whom men said was that of Elendil himself.

With the battle over, scouts began combing the field in hope of finding what wounded had survived the night. Little luck had they until they found Eowyn and Merry; together they were borne to a field hospital, set up in one of the ruined buildings of the city.

Later that day Gandalf and Pippin arrived on Shadowfax, bearing a cargo beyond price: leaves of _athelas_ or kingsfoil, gathered in haste from old men of Minas Tirith, which the King Elessar would use to heal those who had been so grievously injured in the slaying of the Wizard King.

There Eowyn’s right arm, cold and lifeless, was amputated below the elbow; but by skilful application of _athelas_ , Aragorn and the healers brought her and Merry both back from the brink of death.

Yet there were indeed great losses for Gondor to mourn. Faramir had perished in the battle; and at Minas Tirith, the Lord Denethor, seeing this in the _palant_ _ír_ of the kings, leapt himself to his death from the battlements of the White Tower.

But later would come a time for mourning. The Enemy was sleepless; and while the malice of Sauron persisted the captains of the West could not afford to be idle.

 

In the battle at the Black Gate Gimli perished also, slaying a Balrog like Glorfindel of old; and Legolas tore at his dark hair when he found the two bodies on the field afterward.

But Eowyn awaited Aragorn in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith, whither she and Merry had been sent when they were well enough to be moved.

Once safe in the care of the Healer the hobbit told her of the parting words that Théoden bade him say to her, that he had not space to express in that desperate hour upon the battlefield. And though she sorrowed thereat she was also glad, for all her life had she hoped to earn the old King’s praise as a warrior, that she might thus prove herself an equal of the valiant men of the Mark.

So they passed the time, and Eowyn sang some of the legends put into song by the bards of Rohan, and Merry expounded on the history of Hobbits and the growing of pipe-weed; and one day an Eagle came out of the sky, heralding a victory whose joy was beyond all hope and expectation.

For in the depths of Mordor the Quest of the Ringbearer had been achieved; and the realm of Sauron had passed, and with it a great Shadow departed from the world.

 

In the spring the new White Tree, found on the slopes of Mount Mindolluin high above the city, bloomed with its first fruit; and King Elessar plucked it, and gave it to Eowyn to eat. But Legolas forbade her, and in so doing revealed a chapter of the history of Gondor known still to Elves, but forgotten among Men.

For Tarondor king of Gondor, who had removed the King’s House to Minas Anor from its former dwelling amid the growing ruin of Osgiliath, planted also a sapling of the White Tree in the greensward before the Citadel; and when the tree bloomed with fruit, he took and ate thereof.

But the fruit of the Tree was such that his skin turned as white as milk, and though he was a wise and just king, his strange appearance unnerved other Men, and even the Lords of Gondor feared to look on him.

Therefore did Eowyn yield the fruit once more to Aragorn, and he bade Húrin Warden of the Keys cut into the fruit with his sword, and lay the pieces thereof in the soil upon the face of high Mindolluin, that the seeds within the flesh might take root, and the line of the White Tree continue down the years.

 

The crown of her head is bald, though golden locks fall in braids upon her shoulders; her shining pate is hidden by a veil of cloth beneath a queenly crown.

A silver mask covers her face, hiding the absence of a nose. Behind it one grey eye glitters keenly, and one milky eye stares with sightless vision.

Teeth of pearl fill the gaps in her smile; a glove filled with bran takes the place of her absent right hand.

Such is the face that Eowyn, Queen of Gondor, presents to the world.

Mask and glove, teeth and veil and crown, all fall by the wayside at night.

In the tongue of the Rohirrim, her name means “joy in horses”.

Aragorn and Legolas are wonderful horses indeed.


	4. citadel of the stars

>   _All that is gold does not glitter,_  
>  _Not all those who wander are lost;_  
>  _The old that is strong does not wither,_  
>  _Deep roots are not reached by the frost._  
>  _From the ashes a fire shall be woken,_  
>  _A light from the shadows shall spring;_  
>  _Renewed shall be blade that was broken,_  
>  _The crownless again shall be king._
> 
> \- LOTR I.x, “Strider”

 

“Begone, foul dwimor-lake! Leave the dead in peace!”

A cold voice answered: “Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.”

A sword rang as it was drawn. “Do then as thou wilt; but I will hinder it, if I may.”

“Hinder me? Thou fool. No living man can hinder me!”

Then Merry heard of all sounds in that hour the strangest, a peal of laughter clear as a stream running in a mountain rill. “But no living man am I! I am Eowyn, Eomund’s daughter. Thou standest between me and my lord and kin. Begone, if thou be not deathless! For living or dark undead, I will smite thee, if thou touch him.”

As she spoke she cast from her the cloak she had worn about her shoulders, and revealed herself naked to the waist, like the unarmoured warrior-maidens in the days of Aldor grandson of Eorl, who shamed their fallen enemies with the knowledge that it was a woman who had defeated them.

The Wizard King hesitated, and checked the advance of his war-mount; his hitherto undaunted will had been shaken, however briefly, by the appearance of this unlooked-for foe. For the first time since the arrival of the Nazgûl, Merry dared to open his eyes. He saw the Morgul-lord mounted high on his awful steed, black and terrifying like a nightmare of the Elder Days come to life. But for all the terror of his visage the woman before him was undaunted. A sunbeam pierced the black-veiled sky above the plain; the sword in Eowyn’s hand glittered; her long fair hair gleamed where it emerged beneath her helmet.

Suddenly the Black Rider’s hideous mount reared its huge snakelike head. Foul breath streamed from its mouth and nostrils as, unpossessed of its master’s apprehension, it readied to seize this new prey between its jaws. A great shadow fell on Eowyn, but she shrank not back; with steady hand she swung her sword, and with one stroke clove the beast’s head from its neck.

Back she sprang as the severed head tumbled at her feet. The great carcase wavered for a moment, then crashed to earth, pinning Merry beneath its haunch as it fell. But out of the wreck rose the Black Rider, tall and threatening, towering over Eowyn. A sword hung in a metal sheath upon his hip; a great black mace shone darkly in his right hand. Beneath his iron crown two eyes pale and terrible gleamed from a face unseen.

Try as he might, Merry could not pull himself out from under the massive bulk of the dead creature. Yet this spared him from the notice of the Lord of the Nazgûl, whose dark will was focused wholly on the woman before him. He was paid as little attention as a common worm in the mud.

“So! Thou hast slain my steed,” said the Rider to Eowyn. “Let us see if thou art so war-crafty when ranged against the magic of a Wizard of old.

“Did Gandalf not tell thee that I was one of his Order, that he was once a Man even as I? Perhaps he let it be thought that he was one of the Maiar, a messenger sent from Valinor to succour those that raise their hand against the Dark Lord? Not so. By spells in books that sank with ancient Númenor we gained long life, both Gandalf and I, and the rest of our small company; yet the head of our Order died under torture, in the days of the Dark Lord’s dominion in Armenelos. For I was second of the Wizards, whose knowledge outmatched even Saruman, and it was my betrayal that brought about his ruin.

“Thou art a brave enough warrior, I deem, but little harm canst thou inflict without a weapon.”

He raised his left hand in a gesture as though sending forth a gust of wind, and the sword in Eowyn’s grasp shattered. She flung the useless hilt to the ground in terror and amaze. The rent in the clouds high above closed up once more, and the light about Eowyn failed, even as her eyes swept around her desperately for another way to continue the combat.

“Indeed, what hurt canst thou do at all? What move couldst thou make against me, thou who art ruled by fear?” As the Rider spoke his terrible pale eyes focused their gaze on her; their power was like that of the eyes of a dragon of old days, and Eowyn found herself unable to move. She could but stand helpless, watching, waiting for the mace in the Nazgûl Lord’s right hand to strike a crashing blow.

The first blow swept her helmet from her head. The second shattered her cheekbone; the third broke her jaw.

After half a dozen blows she was still standing motionless, unable to move for bone-deep fear of the Ringwraith’s baleful eyes. But the left side of her face was a ruin: her eye on that side had swollen shut and pulsed with pain, her nose had been broken more than once, and half her teeth lay on the bloodstained grass at her feet.

Still Merry worked to push himself free of the carcase pinning him to the earth, unnoticed by the Wizard King intent on the destruction of his foe.

On the seventh blow the wooden haft of the mace splintered and broke. The iron head fell to the ground to join the hilt of Eowyn’s ruined weapon. Casting the broken handle aside, the Wizard King drew the sword from the black sheath at his belt. It shone like the glimmer of ice on a mountain-peak in winter beneath a cold sun.

This was the same blade with which he had contended with Gandalf at the Great Gate of Minas Tirith, and broken the wizard’s staff, before being put to flight by the sudden arrival of Aragorn’s Rangers from over a treacherous mountain pass. The Nazgûl held the blade before Eowyn’s one working eye, anticipating what seemed a sure triumph.

“Seest thou this blade? Thou mayest regard it with loathing now, but soon thou shalt long to feel its icy point within thy breast. Had I more time and wherewithal I could contrive a far more painful death for thee; but as it is, thy agonies shall make it seem a mercy when this sword drinks thy life.”

He spoke an incantation in a tongue neither the woman nor the hobbit understood, and the hair on the crown of Eowyn’s head burst into flame.

With a great heave, Merry at last broke free of the weight of the dead creature pinning him down. Swiftly he dashed over to the Wizard King, and drawing the Barrow-sword thrust it with all his force into the back of the Nazgûl’s knee, at the join between two pieces of Morgul-plate.

Instantly Merry’s arm was seized with a frigid numbness, and as he dropped his sword its blade melted. But his aim had been true, and his blow had its desired effect; for it broke the spell that bound the Nazgûl Lord’s sinews to his will, and glad to know its fate would be the smith who forged it in the North-lands long ago.

The Wizard King fell to his knees, and his sword tumbled to the ground; the flames he had conjured atop Eowyn’s head went out as he collapsed. Freed from the spell that bound her, Eowyn took from the ground the fell sword with the glittering icy blade. With a great effort she drove it between the Wizard King’s crown and mantle, where two pale eyes stared out, defiant still, from the absence of a face.

So died the Wizard King, lord of Númenor, castellan of Minas Morgul and lieutenant of Sauron.

Then, weary with exhaustion and grievous hurt, Eowyn collapsed into unconsciousness.

 

And in the midst of the wrack stood Meriadoc like an owl blinking in the daylight; and he went stumbling to look on the body of Théoden, and found that the old king was no longer pinned beneath his horse. For Snowmane in the spasm of death had rolled again, and lay now beside the body of the king; yet he had been the bane of his master.

Then Merry knelt to kiss his hand, and Théoden opened his eyes, and he spoke in a voice weak but unbroken. “Farewell, Master Holbytla! I go to my fathers, and even in their mighty company I shall not now be ashamed. I felled the black serpent. A grim morn, and a glad day, and a golden sunset!”

Hot tears fell from Merry’s eyes. “Forgive me, lord,” he said, “that in giving you my service I failed to save you in this dark hour.”

“Grieve not! There is nothing to forgive.” The old king smiled. “Live now in blessedness; and when you smoke your pipe-weed, think of me. For never now shall I sit with you in Meduseld, as I promised to do, and listen to your herb-lore.” He closed his eyes, and Merry bowed his head beside him; but after a pause Théoden roused himself and spoke again. “Where is Eomer? I would give him my banner. He must be king after me. Bid Eowyn farewell! She has fought valiantly, and is truly a worthy warrior of the Mark. Give her my love and good wishes. May your path be always firm beneath your feet, Master Meriadoc!”

And the old King’s eyes closed for the last time; but Merry, overcome with grief and weariness, fell to the ground and succumbed like Eowyn to sleep.

 

Night fell upon the battlefield, and the Orcs were still in the possession thereof.

The men of Gondor and Rohan had retreated to the ruins of Osgiliath by the river, leaving the dead and wounded upon the plain to suffer as they might. The Orcs sent scouts forth to find and slay the wounded of their enemy; such cruelty did the armies of Sauron deem expediency of war.

From time to time Eowyn woke upon the battlefield, but of necessity had to remain where she lay, so the attention of the scouts of death would not fall on her. Her shattered face and the burns on her scalp pained her like a mask of fire, and there was a cold beyond words that held her right hand moveless, which had gripped the Wizard King’s own sword to strike him his death-blow.

She whispered to Merry, who lay nearby where he too had fallen, to remain still and quiet as she did, lest the Orcs espy them and kill them; and by a grunt of understanding she knew he would heed her command.

The night wore on, and she had no choice but to relieve herself lying on the cold ground. Urine and stool soaked into her breeches, chilling them and adding to her discomfort.

Close before dawn a crow alighted on her face, and taking her for a corpse, began to peck at her nose. Still she could do nothing, as the Orc-scouts yet roamed the field looking for wounded foes to kill.

Peck! peck! peck! The pain was terrible, but she could do nothing but bear it. The fear of death drove all other thoughts from her mind save that of survival. She would not let the casual malice of carrion betray her to the enemy. Tears of pain leaked from her eyes, one open and one sealed shut. But she gritted her teeth, and dug the nails of her left hand into her palm, and waited.

Finally the crow, having obtained its pound of flesh, flew off sated once more. And Eowyn was left to breathe through the gaping hole where once had been her nose.

 

The morning came, and with it great surprise. For even as corsairs from the havens of Umbar sailed in their black ships up the Anduin to complete the rout of the armies of Men, a host of Elves of Lórien came charging across the plain, sent by Galadriel and Celeborn to provide aid unlooked-for in the hour of Gondor’s need.

The Elves made short work of the surprised Orcs and Corsairs; and afterward they joined the ranks of the men of Gondor, and would render great service later at the Battle of the Black Gate.

With the forces of Sauron defeated, scouts began combing the field in hope of finding what wounded had survived the night. Little luck had they until they found Eowyn and Merry; together they were borne to a field hospital, set up in one of the ruined buildings of the city. Faramir they found also, who had fallen after losing his left arm in desperate sword-play; he had used a torch for fire-arrows, borne on a _mûmak_ that had crashed slain to the ground, to stanch his wound.

Later that day Gandalf and Pippin arrived on Shadowfax, bearing a cargo beyond price: leaves of _athelas_ or kingsfoil, gathered in haste from old men of Minas Tirith, which the King Elessar would use to heal those who had been so grievously injured in the slaying of the Wizard King.

There Eowyn’s right arm, cold and lifeless, was amputated below the elbow; but by skilful application of _athelas_ , Aragorn and the healers brought her and Merry, and Faramir also, back from the brink of death.

Yet there were indeed great losses to mourn. At Minas Tirith, the Lord Denethor, seeing Faramir fall wounded in the _palant_ _ír_ of the kings and mistaking him for dead, leapt to his own death from the battlements of the White Tower.

And, unknown to the captains of the West, the forests of Lórien, denuded of their troops, were being razed even then by Orcs. Celeborn and Galadriel escaped, and others of the Elves with them; but many were slain by the armies of Mordor, and the sacrifice of the Elves in the struggle against Sauron was terrible indeed.

But later would come a time for mourning. The Enemy was sleepless; and while the malice of Sauron persisted the captains of the West could not afford to be idle.

 

On the plain of the Morannon before the gates of Mordor battle was waged; but Eowyn awaited Aragorn in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith, whither she and Merry and Faramir had been sent when they were well enough to be moved.

Once safe in the care of the Healer the hobbit told her of the parting words that Théoden bade him say to her, that he had not had space to express in that desperate hour upon the battlefield. And though she sorrowed thereat she was also glad, for all her life had she hoped to earn the old King’s praise as a warrior, that she might thus prove herself an equal of the valiant men of the Mark.

So they passed the time, and Eowyn sang some of the legends put into song by the bards of Rohan, and Merry expounded on the history of Hobbits and the growing of pipe-weed.

And between Faramir and Eowyn a love blossomed, and Eowyn learned to imagine a life beyond battle, while Faramir found in her a kindred spirit whose bravery he admired. And one day an Eagle came out of the sky, heralding a victory whose joy was beyond all hope and expectation.

For in the depths of Mordor the Quest of the Ringbearer had been achieved; and the realm of Sauron had passed, and with it a great Shadow departed from the world.

 

In the spring the new White Tree, found on the slopes of Mount Mindolluin high above the city, bloomed with its first fruit; and King Elessar plucked it, and gave it to Eowyn to eat. But a strange thing befell therefrom. For even as she ate of it Eowyn’s skin turned as white as milk: an unlooked-for side effect of the magic of the Tree that was descended from Telperion in the gardens of Valinor of old.

Afterward Eowyn gave the seeds within the fruit to Aragorn, and he bade Húrin Warden of the Keys take them and plant them in the soil upon the face of high Mindolluin, that they might take root, and the line of the White Tree continue down the years.

 

The crown of her head is bald, though golden locks fall in braids upon her shoulders; her shining pate is hidden by a veil of cloth beneath a queenly crown.

A silver mask, pale as the flesh beneath it, covers her face, hiding the absence of a nose. Behind the mask one grey eye glitters keenly, and one milky eye stares with sightless vision.

Teeth of pearl fill the gaps in her smile; a glove filled with bran takes the place of her absent right hand.

Such is the face that Eowyn, Queen of Gondor, presents to the world.

Mask and glove, teeth and veil and crown, all fall by the wayside at night.

In the tongue of the Rohirrim, her name means “joy in horses”.

Aragorn and Faramir are wonderful horses indeed.


	5. quintessence

> ‘You lie,’ said Wormtongue.
> 
> ‘That word comes too oft and easy from your lips,’ said Gandalf. ‘I do not lie. See, Théoden, here is a snake! With safety you cannot take it with you, nor can you leave it behind. To slay it would be just. But it was not always as it now is. Once it was a man, and did you service in its fashion. Give him a horse and let him go at once, wherever he chooses. By his choice you shall judge him.’
> 
> \- LOTR III.vi, “The King of the Golden Hall”

 

There are variants of the first two texts, in which Eowyn’s eyes were put out in Minas Morgul, and her forehead branded with the nine lines of the Eye of Sauron, which remained raised in livid red upon her flesh even after the Tree-draught turned it white as milk.

 

In Gondor afterward she put star sapphires in her empty eye sockets, and wore a wig made of woven gold rather than beads of oversea blue, and a loincloth of diaphanous white silk instead of one of cloth-of-gold.

 

There are additionally variants of the other two texts, which shed light on why the Riders of Rohan were late coming to the aid of Gondor. The accounts of Eowyn’s injuries are significantly different also.

An ambush by Orcs on the road in the Druedain Forest beset the advance guard of the Rohirrim, and Eowyn riding in the van lost the ring finger of her left hand from an iron-headed arrow. The horse she and Meriadoc rode was slain, and they ran back on foot to inform the main body of the host of its peril. In her haste she lost one of her fox-fur shoes in the trodden mud of the path; and though she and Merry were remounted on a new horse after the Orc-ambush was defeated, as a result she rode barefoot to the battle of Osgiliath.

During the confrontation with the Wizard King, it is said one of the pieces of Eowyn’s shattered sword in falling pierced her right foot, leaving there a scar. Fragmentary early copies of the two manuscripts presented previously suggest this element of the story – Eowyn’s loss of a shoe during the ambush, and a resulting foot injury later -- was originally found there also, with the difference that the sword-shard severed Eowyn’s right little toe. However, the detail of Eowyn losing a finger to an arrow appears to be original to the variants described here.

Moreover, in these variant texts the Wizard King cut out Eowyn’s right eye with his sword of ice, blinding her completely, so as to whet her longing for that blade’s cold embrace while flames engulfed her; and the fires of his conjuring burnt off for ever all the hair of her head.

The variant texts expand significantly on the death of the Wizard King. Here, even as Eowyn drove the icy sword into the face of the Nazgûl Lord, his wraithlike body began to implode, and the sword was sucked into nothingness. But even as he died, the Wizard King sought to kill his slayer, rising to his feet and seizing Eowyn’s throat in his gauntleted hand. It availed him not, for the void consumed him from the inside out, armour and all, before he could choke her to death. Yet that fearsome grip wreaked great damage on Eowyn’s throat, and from that hour she could speak no word in any tongue known of Elves or Dwarves or Men.

As a result of this notable addition to the variant texts, the later mention of Eowyn’s songs in the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith is omitted. In this also the fragmented copies of the two manuscripts presented earlier, which predate those in the Golden Book of Pengolodh, agree with the variant texts; hence it is likely the detail of Eowyn’s loss of voice was originally present there too.

These variations say as well that the crow that vexed Eowyn as she lay feigning death bit off her left little finger rather than her nose. Thus there is no description of her wearing a silver mask afterward.

But the variant texts carry also the mention that Eowyn’s body was so heated from the magic fire that she could not afterward wear any but the lightest of garments; and it may be that this element was left out from the two preceding manuscripts by scribal error.

 

Strange to say, each of these four “branches” of the tale – those of the wig of oversea-blue, the sapphire eyes, the silver mask, and the iron arrow – have associated with them a different description of the tower of Orthanc, and the livery of Gondor, and the crown worn by King Elessar.

 

In the **“Oversea-Blue”** branch, Orthanc was a black tower with seven tiers of decreasing girth and height, crowned with three horns at its summit; it was founded on an arch reared upon a great two-pronged rock, black and volcanic. Two stairways of red stone set into this at north and south met in a landing below the center of the great arch, and further flights at east and west led up to twin doors within the arch at each side of the tower.

The arms of Gondor were a silver tree and crown, with seven six-pointed stars of silver about the tree, on a field of blue.

The Crown of Gondor was fashioned in the likeness of a winged helm. Here there is a difference between the manuscript where Faramir was slain and that where he survived: in the former, the circlet at the crown’s base and its peak were wrought of mithril, and the area between was of gold; but in the latter, this arrangement was inverted. In both manuscripts, seven gems of adamant were set in the circlet, and there were wings of mother-of-pearl at either side; but at the top of the crown there was a gem that shone like a white flame.

 

In the **“Sapphire Eyes”** branch, Orthanc was likewise a seven-tiered tower with three horns at its top, and the arch built upon a volcanic rock remained also; but the steps leading up to tower were black, hewn directly from the rock, and led at either hand on east and west up to twin doors set in the outside of the foundation arch.

The arms of Gondor were here a silver tree on a red field, surrounded by seven six-pointed stars of silver, and a silver crown. The Crown of Gondor was again fashioned as a helm of silver and gold, and the arrangement of its metals varied as before, but now the flaming gem atop its summit was red.

 

In the **“Silver Mask”** branch, Orthanc was founded on a volcanic rock, but the rock’s two prongs described above were absent, and the tower rose up directly from its center; the tower had a single doorway and was marvelously tall and slender, with tall sloping sides, and again had three horns upon its summit.

The arms of Gondor were a white tree and crown on a field of gray, without stars. The Crown of Gondor was different also: here it was a band of silver, set with white gems, its front topped by seven golden rays. In the manuscript where Faramir was slain, the peak of the crown was made of red velvet cloth; in the manuscript where Faramir survived, the crown was an open band, without a cloth cap.

 

And in the **“Iron Arrow”** branch, Orthanc again rose directly from the center of a volcanic rock, and had a summit adorned with three horns, but here also the tower’s body had seven tiers with straight sides, with the girth and height of these decreasing as the tower rose skyward.

In each of these four descriptions, in manuscripts where Faramir survived, the tower is said to have had a circular water-course, spanned by footbridges, surrounding the volcanic rock at its base; but in manuscripts where Faramir was slain, this detail is absent.

Also in this branch of the story, the arms of Gondor were a silver tree and crown, without stars, on a field of white; and the Crown of Gondor, whose peak again varied in form, had rays of silver.


	6. traduttore traditore

> **OBERON**
> 
> My gentle Puck, come hither. Thou rememberest
> 
> Since once I sat upon a promontory,
> 
> And heard a mermaid on a dolphin's back
> 
> Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath
> 
> That the rude sea grew civil at her song
> 
> And certain stars shot madly from their spheres,
> 
> To hear the sea-maid's music.
> 
> _\- A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ , II.i

 

There are three additional accounts of the War of the Ring, collected in the volume known as the White Book of Elostirion. These for the most part follow very closely the text of the Red Book of Westmarch, yet they too differ in some significant details.

In two of these accounts, here labeled **“Tree”** and **“Crown”** for reasons that will become evident, the Witch-King of Angmar, now known by his familiar title, wielded a great steel sword red to the hilt during his confrontation with Gandalf at the Great Gate of Minas Tirith; and it was this weapon he bore into combat with Eowyn.

In the third account, labeled **“Star”** , the Witch-King’s weapon at the Great Gate was a flaming sword, which he again retained during his battle with Eowyn.

In all three texts, though Eowyn slew the Nazgûl Lord’s steed, its fiery breath melted Eowyn’s shield, obliging her to drop it to the ground.

Afterward, the Witch-King used dark magic to shatter Eowyn’s sword. In the **“Tree”** variant, as her sword fell to pieces, one of the fragments struck Eowyn on the right cheek, leaving a scar. The **“Crown”** variant says that Eowyn’s scar was on her left cheek; no mention is made of such a scar in the **“Star”** variant.

All three texts agree that Eowyn used the Witch-King’s own weapon to slay him. In the **“Tree”** and **“Crown”** accounts her arm suffered no permanent damage as a result. But in the **“Star”** variant Eowyn’s right hand was amputated in the Houses of Healing, because of the burns she had suffered from the Witch-King’s flaming sword; and in after days she had a hand of mithril fashioned as a replacement, wrought with marvellous skill by Gimli the Dwarf, whose joints could be positioned flexibly as it were a hand of flesh and blood.

 

Again, each variant is said to have its own design of the tower of Orthanc, and its own version of the arms of Gondor, and the Crown thereof.

In the **“Tree”** variant Orthanc is said to have been wrought of several piers of smooth black stone joined together from bottom to top, with the entrance facing east, as in the Red Book of Westmarch; but there were three piers of stone rather than four, and its height was three hundred feet.

In the **“Crown”** variant Orthanc had four piers, but its height was still three hundred feet.

In the **“Star”** variant Orthanc had three piers once more, but now the height of the tower was five hundred feet, as in the Red Book.

In the **“Tree”** and **“Crown”** variants the arms of Gondor were a silver tree and crown on black, without stars; but the banner of Elendil that Aragorn raised from the Black Ships had a different form. In the **“Tree”** text the banner featured, from top to bottom on a sable field, a silver crescent moon and golden rayed sun above the silver-and-gold crown and Silver Tree of Gondor. In the **“Crown”** text the banner bore on black a silver crescent moon above and a golden rayed sun below; between them was the silver-and-gold crown of Gondor.

In the **“Star”** variant the arms of Gondor and the banner of Elendil shared the same design: a silver tree on a field of sable, with a single six-pointed star of silver above it and a silver crown atop that.

In the **“Tree”** account the Crown of Gondor is said to have been fashioned as a winged helm, made all of silver, with seven gems like stars in the circlet and wings of mother-of-pearl, and at its top a red gem that shone like a flame. The description in the **“Crown”** account is similar, but there the gem at the summit of the crown was white.

In the **“Star”** account the topmost gem was again red, but the crown’s wings were of silver inset with pearls – which is to say, its description accords with that in the Red Book of Westmarch, save for the gem at its top being red instead of white.


	7. the winged Psyche with awaken'd eyes

> _What leaf-fringed legend haunts about thy shape_
> 
> _Of deities or mortals, or of both,_
> 
> _In Tempe or the dales of Arcady?_
> 
> _What men or gods are these? What maidens loth?_
> 
> _What mad pursuit? What struggle to escape?_
> 
> _What pipes and timbrels? What wild ecstasy?_
> 
> \- Keats, “Ode on a Grecian Urn”

 

 

A few minor notes remain to be mentioned.

 

One subject which may be further explored is the varying descriptions of the throne room of the King of Gondor in Minas Tirith.

The **“Oversea-Blue”** , **“Sapphire Eyes”** , **“Silver Mask”** , and **“Iron Arrow”** branches all say the floor of the throne room bore mosaics figured with subjects taken from the realms and history of Middle-earth. However, the **“Tree”** , **“Crown”** , and **“Star”** texts say its mosaic floor was adorned rather with flowing geometric patterns of many colours.

Conversely, in the **“Tree”** , **“Crown”** , and **“Star”** accounts, the carved capitals of the pillars in the throne room depicted many strange creatures and leaves of varied plants. But in the **“Oversea-Blue”** , **“Sapphire Eyes”** , **“Silver Mask”** , and **“Iron Arrow”** texts, the capitals of the pillars bore a uniform foliage without fauna.

In the **“Oversea-Blue”** and **“Sapphire Eyes”** branches, the throne of the King of Gondor is said to have had carven wings along its back, and its four feet were fashioned in likeness of the feet of a horse. In the **“Silver Mask”** and **“Iron Arrow”** branches, the throne is said instead to have had eight horse-like feet that upheld its seat.

In texts where Faramir was slain, the throne was of _mithril_ ; but in texts where Faramir survived, the throne was wrought of gold.

The **“Tree”** , **“Crown”** , and **“Star”** accounts do not mention the throne of Gondor as having wings or eight feet; but in the **“Tree”** and **“Crown”** accounts the throne was made of _mithril_ , and in the **“Star”** account it was of gold.

Aragorn’s verse sung on sighting the mountains of Gondor was likewise changed according to the form of the throne in Minas Tirith: he extolled a “wingèd crown and throne of gold”; a “many-footed throne of gold”; or in either shape a “…throne therein”, to fit with a silver throne. With this last change came changes in the previous line from “the gardens of the Kings of old” to “the gardens of the Kings of Men”, and from “Shall Men behold the Silver Tree” to “Shall folk behold the Silver Tree” in the subsequent line.

All accounts concur in saying the throne’s upholstery was of green fabric.

 

The descriptions in the various texts of the Three Elven Rings of Power vary also.

In the **“Oversea-Blue”** and **“Sapphire Eyes”** branches, Galadriel’s Ring was called Kemen, the Ring of Earth, and it is said to have borne a ruby. Gandalf’s Ring, here called Ëar, the Ring of Sea, had a sapphire jewel; and Elrond’s Ring, Menel or the Ring of Sky, bore a diamond. All three rings had bands of gold.

To match the change to Galadriel’s Ring, the verse sung by Gandalf before Théoden and Wormtongue in Edoras differed also: the line “White is the stone in your white hand” was changed to “Bright is the stone in your white hand.”

In the **“Silver Mask”** and **“Iron Arrow”** branches, the three Rings were again those of Earth, Sea, and Sky: but their bands were of _mithril_ rather than gold, and the gem of Elrond’s Ring was amber. Again, the text of Gandalf’s song in Edoras was changed to suit this conception.

The **“Tree”** , **“Crown”** , and **“Star”** variants largely keep the names and descriptions of the Three Elven Rings known from the most common text, save that in the **“Tree”** and **“Star”** variants the band of Galadriel’s Elven Ring was wrought of gold rather than _mithril_.

Most remarkably, there is an episode in the **“Tree”** and **“Crown”** manuscripts where, when the sons of Elrond travelling with the Dúnedain came upon the camp of Rohan, they bore with them the Elven Ring of Galadriel, sent by her as a gift to Aragorn. It was a present in token of his future marriage to Arwen, but served also to draw the attention of the Enemy away from Frodo bearing the One Ring into the heart of Mordor.

In these texts King Elessar retained the Ring of Galadriel, and during the ride of the Grey Company to Pelargir the folk of Lebennin hailed Aragorn as “Lord of the Ring”, contrasting with the use of that title by Sauron.

 

 

_Three Rings for the Elven-kings of Earth, Sea, and Sky,_  
_Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,_  
_Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,_  
_One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne_  
_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._  
_One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,_  
_One Ring to bring them all and in the Darkness bind them_  
_In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie._


End file.
